


5 Times Morgan Reminded Tony of Peter

by KiwisAndTea



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Compliant, Parent Tony Stark, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Tony Stark Feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-22
Updated: 2019-09-22
Packaged: 2020-10-25 21:37:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20731154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KiwisAndTea/pseuds/KiwisAndTea
Summary: Plus the 1 time Morgan reminded Peter of Tony.





	5 Times Morgan Reminded Tony of Peter

**Author's Note:**

> I started writing this right around the time I saw Infinity War and Endgame back-to-back. Obviously I needed to deal with some Feelings. Y'all ready to CRY?

0.

When it's all over, Titan is silent - not in mourning, but in denial that anything ever happened upon its surface. The gentle breeze that had caught their remains in its currents has gone. Nothing moves. Nothing breathes.

It's as if time has stopped and for once in his life, Tony Stark is not swept away with it. The go-go-go of the past ten years has all been leading to this <strike>failure,</strike> and now? Now time can go fuck itself. There's no point anymore. They lost. Fourteen-million possible ends and they blew their only shot at success. Now, Tony just wants to go home. He's tired, he's done his part, he's broken his promises. If Titan's winds won't take him, too, then he'll just have to wait out his inevitable end.

"Was he your son?"

Tony jumps, if only slightly. He had thought he was alone, the last man standing on a planet full of ghosts, where the Universe could get its last laugh, but it seems the angry blue lady that had literally crashed their party is one of the unlucky survivors as well. He shifts on his rock, lifting his head to meet her steely gaze. "What?"

"The boy," she replies, giving a mechanical jerk of the hand in his direction.

Unconsciously, his fingers clench around nothing but blood and dust. It's only then, with her question hanging over him, that he notices he hasn't moved and his left hand is still trembling lightly. The pain in his abdomen is nothing compared to the ache in his chest. "No," he manages to grind out around the lump of ashes and guilt lodged in his throat, and he has never felt more certain about something in his life.

No, Peter was not his son. He wasn't his anything and would never be his anything.

(He deserved a father that could protect him).

1.

When Pepper tells him she's pregnant, he's basking in stage five of his grief. He'd done his denial in space, and his anger at the Compound, and his bargaining when he bought the lake house, and his depression once they'd moved in. Acceptance came unusually easy after that last hurdle, and he found the news to be good, despite the world still lying in ruins. Completely out of universe-saving options, his only hope now is to try to move on and not waste his life.

For Yinsen's sake, and for his daughter's.

Morgan is born on an overcast Thursday afternoon. Pepper had tricked him into a false sense of security with her Business Face, but the calm façade breaks as soon as they arrive at the hospital. He can't stand to see her in pain, knowing he is unable to do anything except yell at doctors and nurses, and it scares him how real it is becoming.

The concept of having a baby and actually having one are two very, _very_ different ideas.

In that regard, May Parker is a blessing. He doesn't deserve her friendship, even in the secondhand, because she's closer to Pepper and Happy than she is to him. Nevertheless, he is eternally grateful she is there to knock some sense into him and station Happy at the door, or he would have made a run for it around centimeter seven.

But May sets his head on straight. He stays, supports his wife, and stands witness to the most disgusting and most beautiful thing he has ever seen.

Morgan Amelia Stark is 6 pounds, 11 ounces and singlehandedly the greatest thing Tony has ever created.

Pepper cries. He cries. Happy cries, though he denies it. Tony sends May with their assigned nurse to keep an eye on his daughter as they wheel her little incubator out of the room, and he cries a second time when May comes back and he can properly hold her for the first time.

They've swaddled her in a white blanket with little pink and yellow daisies sprinkled across it and put a matching hat over her head so that all he can see is her face. She's awake, blinking up at him curiously with blue eyes he prays she never loses, because she'll look exactly like Pepper with that button nose. His calloused fingers brush gently over her plump cheek, awed to silence but closer to feeling at peace than he has ever come.

Then her face screws up and she grows fussy, even after he removes his rough fingers from her skin, and he panics. Ten minutes into fatherhood and he's already doing it wrong, validating the anxieties he and Pepper have spent nine months shutting down. He wasn't made for this. His hands make weapons, not miracles.

Immediately, May interrupts his downward spiral. "It's okay, Tony, it's totally normal. Peter was the same way, you just have to see what she likes. Try rocking with her, that always helped him."

And as he holds his daughter in his arms, he feels the weight of another child, and it just about crushes him. His hands are tainted with an untimely death, sullied and perpetually shaking - not safe for a baby. Not safe for anyone.

(He doesn't touch her for a week afterwards).

2.

It's barely passed dawn and Tony's only been asleep for a handful of hours, but sleep deprivation means nothing when his AI tells him his two-year-old daughter has left the house.

He makes it outside in record time to find the property as pristine as ever. Their resident Warbler is singing away in its tree, morning sunlight streaming through the green leaves and reflecting off the lake- the lake. A quiet splash immediately follows his revelation and his heart plummets to his feet.

"Morgan!" he shouts, sprinting across the grass and off the dock without a second thought. She isn't far from shore, but after the first couple of feet the water gets significantly deeper and even he can't touch the bottom. But unlike her, he can swim. Tony hoists her up out of the water, coughing and hacking but blessedly breathing, and pushes her hair out of her face. "Honey, are you alright?"

Her jerky nod is only a minor relief, but it's enough for him to turn his focus away from her and towards getting them both back up on the dock, where he holds onto her for dear life and attempts to control his panic. "What were you _thinking?"_

She knows she can't swim, she knows the lake is off limits unless an adult is with her, she knows the rules.

Yet he still almost lost her. He almost lost his baby.

"A baby bird was drowning," Morgan answers in a quiet voice. She knows the rules and she knows when she breaks them. She knows there will be consequences for her actions.

"And you just thought you'd drown with it?" he returns with enough edge to wake her from her slumped position against his chest.

"I can’t let it die!"

"And I can't let you die!"

His heart can't take this. It physically can't. He's not as young as he used to be, and the last time he felt like this, like his whole world was toeing the line between life and death and if he were a few seconds slower he would have lost everything…

He was trying to remote pilot a suit from India to pull Peter out of the Hudson.

Somehow these two situations feel exactly the same.

"Oh god." Morgan doesn't protest when he crushes her to his chest and begins rocking them. "I could have lost you. I could have lost you, too. Do you understand me?" 

"'M sorry."

"I know. I know you are."

(He can't shake the feeling that maybe Peter was something to him after all).

3.

It's sometime in the early morning and Tony is tinkering harmlessly at his dining room table, plagued by nightmares and just trying to ease his weary mind. It helps to hyper-focus until time falls away and the only thing that matters is this moment and this project. Deep as he is into his distraction, he doesn't hear Morgan's little feet thumping down the stairs.

"Daddy?"

"Yes baby?" he answers on instinct, slowly pulling himself out of that empty headspace and into the present.

"I don't feel so good."

The screwdriver in his hand slips and he fumbles to catch it before it hits the table and wakes Pepper. He turns too quickly, but instead of seeing stars he sees orange sand and black ash and brown eyes that look far too much like his daughter's: large and curious and so, so kind. Four years of practice means he can escape the waking nightmare before it locks him in, but the memories linger.

_Please, sir-_

"What's wrong?" Tony asks her. Instead of answering, Morgan crawls up into his lap and presses her warm forehead against his neck. "Oh _tesoro,_ let's get you fixed up." He brushes his fingers through her sweaty hair and stands to grab two juice pops and wet a towel.

As soon as he sets her on the couch, she flops over and he has to sit her back up for her popsicle, which is the only thing that keeps her from whining.

"What movie do you want to watch?" he asks, brushing more hair from her face to place the washcloth over her forehead. She'll be asleep again hopefully _after_ the treat is finished, but wake on-and-off for the next few hours, so he settles in and makes himself as comfortable as possible with a super-heater up against his side.

"Princess Leia."

_You ever see that really old movie, Empire Strikes Back?_

FRIDAY turns on the first of the original trilogy and Tony stares at the wall above the TV, trying not to think about all the times a different child was camped out on his couch watching the same ten movies over and over again on bad days. Apparently aliens and laser swords are comforting.

Morgan manages to finish the juice pop before succumbing, but the sticky trash remains clutched in her hand until he wiggles it free to set aside with his own. Holding her close to keep an eye on her temperature, Tony runs his hands through his daughter's soft brown hair and whispers the lines of the movie into her temple, where he places several kisses before being lulled to sleep by her steady breathing.

(He dreams of caring for Peter like this).

4.

"Oh yeah?" he jokes, smearing icing over Morgan's nose. At first, she wrinkles it in disgust, but then she tries to lick it off, and when that doesn't work, she wipes it off with a finger that goes directly into her mouth. "And what do you want Santa to bring you this year?"

She shrugs, stealing a gum drop from the bowl Pepper has been decorating their gingerbread house with, and says, "A brother or sister."

Occupied with their candy supply, Morgan doesn't notice the look her parents share over her head, which is simultaneously amused and hesitant.

"Is that so?" he asks with exaggerated interest. The reality of the situation is that he had seen this coming, had been asked far too many questions about their family and other people's family and what made people related - which was a difficult discussion to have with a four-year-old when her family is two parents and a handful of people with no blood relation to anyone else.

Morgan hums her confirmation, kneeling on her chair to pick the red M&Ms out of the bowl.

"Well then, you might want to be good and stop eating mom's decorating candies." Tony scoops her out of her seat and carries her to the kitchen sink. "Wash up, munchkin. Then go pick a movie."

"Grinch!"

"Again?" He tickles her enough to get her squirming, but stops before she makes a mess of the water. "There are other Christmas movies, Cindy-Lou."

When he sets her back on her feet, she turns to him and grins. "But it's the best!" Morgan proclaims before dashing off into the living room.

He meets Pepper's eye over their gingerbread mansion. "I guess we're watching _How the Grinch Stole Christmas_ again."

* * *

"So," Tony begins as soon as he enters their bedroom. Pepper is already in bed, a book open in her lap, but she closes it with a finger to mark the page to give him her attention. He barrels on before he chickens out or gets ahead of himself. "About Morgan's Christmas wish."

"Tony, we talked about this-"

"No, I know." He pulls his shirt over his head and collapses into bed beside his wife, turning to face her and taking a deep breath. "I was actually thinking… maybe it's time to tell her about him."

Slowly and silently, Pepper sets her book on the nightstand and shifts to face him, a gentle look on her face, one that is compassion and understanding and love. "Yeah?" Her fingers trace the line of his cheek, the crows feet growing deeper at the corner of his eye, and the gray beginning to pepper his hair. "Are you sure you're ready for that?"

He leans into her steady touch, emboldened by her support. Taking her hand, he pulls it from his hair to kiss her palm and try to express how grateful he is to have her in his life. "I won't damn his memory to silence. I can't. It isn't right. He deserves to be remembered, and I think… He was important to me, and I think Morgan deserves to know him."

"I think she'll like that."

* * *

Come Christmas morning, his stomach is in knots. He wants to back out several times, but every time he closes his eyes he sees the dozens of pictures and videos he looked through to prepare for this, and he knows he owes it to both kids to go through with it.

So, after Morgan opens all of her other gifts, Tony places a carefully wrapped rectangle in her lap. She doesn't hesitate to tear into it, but once it's open she just stares at the picture for a long moment before looking up at her father. "Who's this?"

"That's your big brother."

Her eyes light up and Tony bites back the tears that sucker punch brings to his eyes. She turns back to study the photo and begins bouncing in her seat. "What's his name? When do I get to meet him?"

Pepper moves in to rescue him from that line of questioning, but he waves her off and pulls his daughter into his lap, picture frame and all. Peter stares back at him, brandishing a toy lightsaber in a ridiculous pose with an equally ridiculous grin. It was taken on the last May 4th before Thanos.

"You won't, baby. He was one of the Vanished," Tony explains, brushing long brown hair behind her ear and watching her brow furrow in consideration.

"He died?"

And despite telling himself he had healed enough for this conversation, he still cannot bring himself to confirm his worst fears. _He's gone_ is a lot easier to swallow than _he's dead_.

"Yeah sweetie, he did, but that doesn't mean we can't remember him," May fills in with a bittersweet smile. She gets up from her chair and comes to kneel in front of them, tapping the picture of her nephew. "His name was Peter, and he was a bigger fan of Star Wars than you are."

"Just as stubborn as you, too," Happy adds.

Morgan absorbs the information they give her about Peter with rapt interest, but Tony tunes out of the conversation to just focus on her, on how lucky he is to have her after everything that has happened. Yet he can't help but think of how unfair it is, because Peter would absolutely _adore_ her.

They take turns telling stories while he holds her, and then he has FRIDAY turn on the compilation of videos he made so that he isn't just a face in a picture. He wants her to know him, to keep his memory alive, to see how wonderful he was, to learn from him.

(He remembers Peter, and for the first time in a long time, he smiles).

5.

The crash just about stops his heart.

Tony rushes out to the source only to find Morgan in the middle of the garage looking sheepish, an overturned box spilling old lab equipment onto the concrete beside her.

"Are you okay?" he asks, and once he has her confirmation he turns on his Dad Voice. "Were you getting into things you know you shouldn't be in?" Her little shoulders slump, eyes downcast, and he takes pity on her. "Morgan, come here."

She toddles over, hands behind her back and head bowed in shame. "'M sorry."

Ignoring the way his knee pops on the way down, Tony kneels to her level and tilts her chin up. "Why are you sorry?" When her guilt reveals the old web shooter in her hand, he is forced to take a calming breath, lest the torrent of emotions brought on by the sight of it get the best of him. "And do you want to tell me why you are playing with things that aren't yours?"

"I wanna be like you."

_I just wanted to be like you._

_I wanted you to be better._

Be better. Be better.

"Well then, you're not off to a very good start," he tells her calmly, forcing the self-depreciation back down into its box. "This was Peter's."

"Oh." A pause follows as she turns the device over in her hands, careful not to hit any buttons, which is more than could be said for its original owner. "Does that mean he is a superhero too?"

Every use of the present tense in reference to Peter is like a pickaxe to his heart: sharp and acute and chipping away at all the progress he has made. No matter how many times they correct her, she still speaks of Peter as if he is simply away somewhere and will come back eventually. He is wholly unprepared for the day that particular reality hits her.

"Yeah, he was." Delicately taking the web shooter from her hand, Tony ushers her back into the house with a hand on her head. "Come on, baby. I just remembered there's someone else who can tell you stories about Peter."

She follows dutifully along, asking quiet questions as he pulls up the coding that hasn't been touched in five years. It doesn't take near as much digging through his files as he would have thought, but then again FRIDAY was built to anticipate his needs. Within a minute, the interface lights up in a soft violet.

"Karen, say hello to Morgan."

_"Hello Morgan."_

The girl in question grins excitedly at her father before leaning over the table. "Karen, can you tell me about Spider-Man?"

(He leaves Morgan to talk to the AI, goes to the garage, and sheds a few tears over a box labeled _Underoos)._

+1

Peter watches an alien turn to dust and he knows. He _knows_ something terrible has happened, something catastrophic, something universe-altering. His sixth sense is going haywire, clawing at his bones, begging him to proceed with caution but he can't, he can't, because he's stumbling over rubble searching for Mr. Stark before the alien even takes its last breath.

He's the first one to the hero, but not the only one to watch the light fade from his eye and his arc reactor.

The sense switches off, but the burning, searing agony of being torn apart by loss _again_ flares to new heights. He can't even properly cry, choking on air, on guilt, on despair. Hysterically, he turns to Pepper, the only person on this battlefield he really knows (- _the only one alive, anyway_ -), seeking guidance, but Mr. Rhodes is the only thing keeping her upright, and that's when he knows they lost. Thanos might be gone, but the cost was too great. They lost.

They lost Tony.

Weakly, Peter sits back, unable to hold himself up anymore.

The others are gathering now, keeping a distance and mourning in silence, at least until one of the Wakandans comes skidding to a stop right beside Tony. Dr. Strange appears from a portal with Thor not a moment later. Peter only catches a glimpse of the god summoning some lightning with his axe before the three of them disappear with his body.

He wants to scream. How dare they do that? How dare they take Tony from them, while he's still warm, while they're still mourning? They have no right, they don't know him, not like Peter, not like Mr. Rhodes or Happy or… Pepper.

Ant-Man and Black Panther have her attention now, and if he focuses over the rush of blood in his ears, he can make out their reassurances. _Thor revived him. Shuri can fix him. It's okay. It's okay. It's okay._

Finally, he can breathe, but the air in his lungs opens the flood gates and suddenly he's hyperventilating. There are hands touching him, hard and rough and strong and they're suffocating him, they're crushing him, they're- they're-

They're gone.

"Peter, Peter, take a breath." Pepper's hands are soft and cool on his face, brushing tears from his cheeks with a gentleness to rival May. His inhale is short and ragged but enough to stop his skin from crawling. "He's going to be okay."

"He died," Peter rasps, voice small and broken.

"I know." She hugs him then, and instead of feeling suffocated he feels supported. "But he's Tony. He has nine lives."

* * *

He does, in fact, live. 

Peter stays behind to help with the aftermath and spend time with May and his friends, making an effort to ground himself in a broken world five years past his time. It's grueling work, the clean-up and the finding himself, so when Happy tells him Tony is on the up-and-up and asking for him, Peter is all too happy to jump on the waiting jet.

(The image of him lying lifeless amongst the ruins of his own home have been haunting him for days now. He wants to see Tony, alive and well, with his own eyes.)

The Wakandan palace is beautiful, but if he's being honest, he doesn't see any of it. Every step is calculated - quick but not rushed - down long halls. A right, two lefts, double doors at the end, another right. By the time he gets to his destination, he's got tunnel vision so bad he doesn't notice Happy and Pepper sitting in the hall until he's almost on top of them. And by then, the little girl is already slipping from Pepper's lap and running towards him, and he doesn't have enough time to think, let alone react, before she's wrapped herself around his legs.

"Petey! Petey! I knew it!" She's bouncing, shaking his foundation and looking up at him like he hung the moon just for her. "I knew you'd come back."

She's got brown hair and brown eyes and all the child-like joy he'd had when he was young. She's vibrating with it, smile radiant, hug tight, eyes wide with excitement and wonder. It's like looking at an old photograph of himself, eight years old and on his way to see his hero.

He gapes for a few seconds, caught off guard and seriously confused, before stumbling over some sounds that never form words. When he draws his gaze away from the girl and towards the adults for some sort of explanation, all he finds are a matching set of soft eyes and bittersweet smiles.

Unperturbed by his silence, the little girl goes on, "Daddy said you weren't coming back but I knew you would because he sometimes says he's not gonna do something and then he does it anyways." She pauses her tirade, allowing a moment for Peter's head to spin in peace while she squeezes his legs and grins. "And he did it! 'Cause you're back!"

"Hey, sweetie, why don't you let Peter come sit down, okay?" Pepper calls to her.

Obediently, the girl releases his legs and instead takes his hand, leading him over to the chairs. Peter, as tired and confused as he is, follows dazedly and uses that moment of respite to attempt to fit the puzzle pieces together, but his mind is overworked and under-rested. She keeps talking as they sit, but he isn't really listening anymore.

"I'm sorry, I don't- I don't know who you are."

Remarkably, she remains unfazed. "I'm Morgan," she states matter-of-factly, "you're my big brother."

Something inside him twists and his thoughts simultaneously halt and spiral out of control. Little sister. He has a little sister. How does he have a little sister? He doesn't have parents. He has one aunt and he just spent a whole week with her, but he was gone for _five years_ and there's a sparkle in Morgan's eyes that is so familiar that _maybe,_ and it hurts to miss so much, to not know what's going on, to not know his family.

"May never said-"

"Tell him your full name, sweetheart."

Peter's eyes jump from Morgan to Pepper and back, hesitant.

"Morgan Amelia Stark."

Oh.

_Oh._

No, actually, that doesn't explain anything because she still said 'big brother' and Peter's been gone for five years and she's a Stark and-

"I'm five."

"Not yet, squirt," Happy comments, pretending to work on his phone, although the small device does nothing to conceal his interest in the scene before him.

A little bit of Morgan's bravado drops. "Almost five. But guess what!"

Somehow, Peter finds enough of his voice to ask, "What?"

"We have the same birthday!"

And he loves her.

* * *

Tony cries when he sees Peter.

Tony Stark, Iron Man, billionaire who has been hiding his emotions behind a name brand pair of sunglasses since the nineties, starts bawling the second he walks into the room and it's surreal. From Peter's perspective, they saw each other a few days ago and, sure, a lot has happened since then, but it's not like they haven't gone longer without seeing each other. But he knows, now. He can feel the lost time with every step he takes, it lives in the air and the faces of the people who didn't blip out of existence for five years. People like Mr. Stark, who had to keep living in the aftermath.

His right arm is bandaged from fingertip to shoulder in a ridiculous amount of white gauze. Peter wonders briefly if it's alright, or if he has lost part of it to his heroics. Either way, it doesn't matter, and he has more important things to focus on, like not crushing the man in the hug that feels, even to Peter, significantly overdue.

"It's good to see you, Pete," Mr. Stark says into his shoulder. Peter knows he's still crying, but his voice is strong, almost like he is trying to be aloof and failing.

"You too, Mr. Stark." Their grip finally loosens and Peter slips back far enough to sit on the edge of the hospital bed, misty eyed and aiming for a convincing smile. "Miss me?"

Mr. Stark scoffs and rolls his eyes, but his smile is bright and real. "As if. I could actually hear myself think without you rambling on and on about this, that, and the other thing all day. Do you have any idea how much work I've gotten done?"

The banter is so natural it eases the tension from his shoulders and loosens the guilty vice around his heart. Everything is okay again. "Oh, yeah. A little birdy told me you invented time travel?"

His resulting grin is not humble in the slightest. "Of course I didn't invent time travel. Just invented the means of doing so."

Peter rolls his eyes, smiling. "Oh, right. My bad. That's way less cool."

"Watch it, Parker. That time traveling saved your life."

"Yeah, about that. I'm gonna need the whole story, extended cut. No one actually told me much of anything." Mostly, he had just picked up bits of information while listening to the others talk, because the only people to really talk to him - Ms. Valkyrie and Captain Carol - were not around for the stuff leading up to the big battle, apparently.

"Let's save that story for another time."

"Promise?" he asks even though he knows. The threat has passed. There will be a 'later' in which to tell stories.

Mr. Stark smiles. "Promise."

"Incoming," Pepper's voice cuts in, giving the man about three seconds to prepare before Morgan launches herself onto the bed, knocking Peter off in the process.

He hugs her tight with his good arm and then she turns over to lay on his chest, head tucked comfortably under his chin like they belong, and it's bittersweet to see how Mr. Stark's life has moved on. It's not just the two of them anymore, bantering over electronics and chemicals in the lab until all hours of the morning. Peter is sad to have missed that transition, and the million other things that happen to people over the course of five years, but fatherhood fits Mr. Stark like a glove and he can't find it within himself to be upset by the change.

Especially when Morgan holds out a hand to him, flexing her fingers in a grabby motion. "Petey, come back. Daddy needs cuddles to get better, and together we can give him _double cuddles_ so he can get better double fast."

"Oh." He smiles tentatively (she's adorable, but he and Mr. Stark have had two (2) real hugs in as many years and Peter's not, you know, a five-year-old) but allows her to take his hand and pull him back to the bed, where he sits on the edge until she pushes his shoulder to get him to lay down.

There is no denying her, but fortunately Mr. Stark just lifts his good arm so Peter can settle against his side and wraps it around him, sticking a finger out to poke Morgan in the side. "What a great idea, Morgoona. I feel much better already," he says, breath rustling Peter's hair.

Part of him had expected this to be kind of weird, curling up to a man he'd never been that tactile with, but it isn't. It feels just like the nights he and May curl up on the couch together to watch movies, where everything is warm and safe and _normal._

Of course, being a five-year-old, Morgan's ability to sit still lasts about ten minutes before she climbs over Peter and off the bed, pulling him with her even though he'd been fully prepared for a good long nap. He plays games with her when she asks nicely and falls more in love with her the more time he spends with her. She is, no surprise, brilliant for her age, and goofy, and kind. By the time they break out the Jenga, she's practically in his lap and he's all too happy to oblige her.

Morgan considers every move carefully, poking at blocks to see which will avoid disaster, lacking the overenthusiasm found in most children her age that would knock the tower over in seconds. That consideration, however, does not keep her from pulling a block that causes their tower to wobble precariously. She holds her breath, and when the blocks scatter across the table it comes out in a very eloquent, clear, "Shit."

Not even Mr. Stark's heart monitor makes a sound the following second.

"_Anthony Edward Stark_."

"It was an accident!"

Yep, Morgan is definitely Tony Stark's daughter.

(He thinks he might like having a little sister).

**Author's Note:**

> Don't @ me. But also, @ me on tumblr (same name) if you want. I love getting yelled at about Tony & Peter.


End file.
